


Losing It

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Community: badbadbathhouse, F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-05
Updated: 2009-02-05
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: From Bad Bad Bathhouse. Dojima fucks fem!Adachi over his desk.





	Losing It

 

He tried to blame it on her, this thing, what they were doing right now. He could line up the excuses in his head perfectly. The motions of her fingers as she tucked her unruly hair behind her ears, casual, almost strokes across her cheek. The way her blazer was always open and her blouse undone like she'd just been too lazy or harried or sloppy to button it up, but there it was revealing the soft curve of breast and the outline of lace.

She brought him his coffee every morning and he didn't taste it.

“I'm sorry I'm late, sir,” she bustled in saying that every damn morning, and he was on edge already just from the anticipation.

He fantasized about her, sometimes. She was probably the quiet, stay-at-home type. She'd be reading books on a Friday night and sipping her tea and cabbage soup. He sometimes fantasized about her reading the dirty ones, one hand slipping under her own skirt as her cheeks flushed at the words on the page.

He tried not to think about this at work.

It wasn't that this day was any different from the rest, no, they'd all been this bad, him sitting at his desk and tapping his foot and demanding this and that paper be brought to him because fuck he was not getting up until he'd calmed himself down. But then she bent over the desk to put down a stack of papers that she just barely had control of, giving him a full view of everything down her blouse.

Fuck if she wasn't doing this deliberately.

He lost it, standing up, throwing his chair back, and grabbing her shoulders in a single movement, thrusting his mouth against hers. There was a momentary surprise, and for a second he thought she was _smiling_ against his lips – no, couldn't be – before her tongue was inside his mouth. He fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, popping one or two in his haste before his hands made his way into her brazier.

He wasn't patient. He fair dragged her forward, forcing her to clamber over the desk towards him so he could get enough reach to wrap his arms around her torso and undo the clasp on her back, grasping a breast with one hand and reaching under her skirt to yank down her panties with the other. The papers she'd piled on his desk moments before were scattered everywhere, but he didn't care, not in the slightest. She gasped, and fuck, he was hard in his pants, he couldn't wait.

He pushed her backwards onto the desk, removing his hands from her body for only a moment so he could undo his fly and yank his pants just low enough for his rock-hard cock to push its way out. His pencil-jar spilled over and a stapler fell to the floor as she struggled to find a doable position on her back.

“I'm – I'm not on birth control,” she stuttered, and Dojima cursed, yanking open three different drawers in his desk before he managed to find a condom and roll it onto his cock.

His hands were braced on either side of her on the desk as he pushed into her, her legs pulled up to hug his sides and her skirt bunched around her waist. Somewhere alone the line she'd lost one of her high heels, her toes curling in the air. She cried out as he entered her, his grunts accompanying, and maybe it had been a long time since he'd done this, but he made up for it with sheer urgency.

He slammed into her hard enough to push her backwards on the desk with every thrust, nearly pushing her off the edge to fall on the other side. He grasped her thigh with one hand and kept moving, closing his eyes because if he looked at the way her breasts jiggled with the motion and the expression on her face he was going to come in seconds.

Her arms flailed across the desk as she tried to find something to grip, knocking off what was left of the papers and what-nots on the desk. Finding nothing, she gripped his shirt with one hand and his tie with the other, bringing his mouth forward to meet hers again.

As he neared climax, the tie pulled tight, too tight for a moment, and his breath caught as his orgasm slammed into him and he fired off the last few spastic thrusts, arms trembling to keep himself from collapsing against her.

“F-fuck, Toru,” he choked, and threw back his head as she clenched around his slackening member, letting out a half-muffled cry that turned him on all over again.

After a moment he pulled back and peeled off the condom, throwing it in the trash before zipping up his pants and turning around. He could hear the sounds of her pulling herself together behind him, and he took the moment to catch his breath and calm down.

“Clean up my desk,” he said shortly, and left the room.

 


End file.
